A Bearded Love Story
by EvilMindTwins
Summary: A love story about beards. H/D; sexual content in later chapters.
1. Bearded Observations: Part One

_Pints, pondering and Potter._

Draco stepped into the pub and shook the rain out of his hair. He definitely hadn't missed the English weather. Six months in France had been more than enough time away, though. He was glad to be back in London, miserable winter and all.

He walked to the bar and quickly ordered a pint of real ale. He immediately took a large gulp and savoured the taste. This, this he had missed. A real bière anglaise. He needed to stop thinking in French, though.

Picking up his pint he headed over to an empty table to wait for Pansy. It would be nice to finally catch up. He had only seen her once since he got back and that was a brief meeting filled with 'How are you?'s and 'You're looking well's.

As he settled into his seat Draco rubbed absent-mindedly at his chin and remembered Pansy's reaction to his new appendage. The rustic life he'd been living in France was strange to get used to, and by the end Draco had given up on shaving all together. It had been itchy and annoying at first, but now he found it kept his chin warm. Pansy had initially been shocked, asking him if he planned to shave it off now he was home. He didn't plan on going anywhere near his face with a razor; he'd grown quite fond of the thing, and told Pansy just that. She had only smiled and nodded, looking mildly interested.

A glance at his watch told him that Pansy was already late. He looked briefly around the pub to make sure he hadn't missed her already sat somewhere with an empty glass of gin and tonic. He didn't spot any dark haired ladies, but a dark haired man by the window across the room did catch his eye. He was currently turned away from Draco, but he had broad shoulders and gorgeously dishevelled hair. Draco decided to simply enjoy the view until Pansy arrived. He picked up his drink and took a sip. As he placed the glass down on the table the man he'd been admiring turned his head towards Draco, and Draco spilt a fair portion of his beer as it slipped from his hand. He quickly grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the mess he'd made.

Once he'd cleaned up his spilt beer, Draco looked back up at the man, but he had turned away once again. Draco had only gotten a quick look at the man's face, but it had been enough for him to almost drop his drink in shock. Harry Potter was currently sat across the pub from him. Not only that, but since the last time Draco had seen him, which to be fair was probably months before he'd left for France, Potter had gone and become the Bearded One, the Boy Who Grew Facial Hair. And damn it, it suited him.

Potter was sitting alone with his own pint of beer in front of him. If Draco shifted his chair slightly to the right and turned it a few degrees and... perfect. Now he could see Potter's profile surreptitiously if he glanced slightly to his right, whilst all the time seeming to look straight ahead.

Careful not to pick up his drink, Draco took his time to study Potter. His facial hair was past the stubble stage, and was quite full. Draco had to be impressed. Some men just couldn't grow full beards, and any attempt to do so just made them look immature, but Potter; his beard covered the whole of his chin, all the way up to his sideburns. He even had that mignon (it was easier to admit in French) little tuft of hair under his bottom lip. Lips... Draco could see Potter's smooth plump lips all too clearly. He obviously kept his moustache trimmed. Licking his own lips, Draco's mouth suddenly felt very dry and he looked away to grab his beer and take a large gulp.

Rubbing his forehead, Draco tried to calm down. He was getting all worked up over _Potter._ Okay, a rather sexy bearded Potter, but still. He knew they had friends in common now-a-days (where_ was_Pansy?), and the two of them hardly hated each other anymore, but Draco still wasn't comfortable ogling the man from across the room. And Draco certainly didn't want to imagine how soft that beard would feel to stroke. And he definitely wasn't getting hot under the collar wondering if Potter had spotted him, perhaps had his eyes on Draco right now, admiring Draco's own beard.

Unable to refrain any longer, Draco glanced up at Potter again. He was almost sure he had seen those green eyes look hastily away in another direction. Potter's hand moved up to rub at his beard; a nervous gesture if ever Draco saw one. The hand drew Draco's attention to Potter's beard once again. The hairs seemed heavy, but fine. Draco unwittingly imagined the feel of those hairs on his own sensitive skin. They would be ample and intense, but gentle and tender.

Draco closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the images and feelings going through him. He could not start thinking that way about Potter. No matter how hairy the man's face got. No matter how kissable his lips looked. No matter how tight Draco's trousers suddenly felt.

When he opened his eyes it was to find green ones staring right back at him. This time neither of them looked away. Draco held Potter's gaze with what he knew to be a look full of intensity and need. He knew, because that was the exact look that Potter was giving him, as well.


	2. Bearded Observations: Part Two

_Memories, musings and Malfoy._

Harry loved living in Britain; he loved the pubs, the people and pints of nice cold beer with the frothy head spilling over his hand. What he _didn't_ love about living in Britain was the rain. It was relentless. It just didn't fucking stop.

Harry pushed open the door to the bar, took off his wet cloak and sighed in relief. The smell of beer invaded his nostrils and caused him to crack a smile. Harry gave the half-empty bar a quick scout look over and discovered that his friends hadn't arrived yet, so he went up to the bar and bought himself a drink. Pansy had owled him earlier to meet up with her and Ginny; apparently they had some exciting news to share with him. Harry wasn't that excited about the news; knowing that pair, it could be something as 'exciting' as a new shop opening in Diagon Alley. He paid and thanked the barman before licking the overflowing froth off his fingers, emitting a small moan at the taste.

Finding an empty table by the window and settling down to enjoy his drink, Harry idly looked out at the rain and thought back to the last couple of months. So many things had changed; his newfound friendship with Pansy the main one. She had simply cornered him at the office one day and demanded that Harry join her for a drink. After a very awkward conversation, where a very embarrassed Harry mumbled about not liking girls, Pansy had laughed, patted him on the arm and told him to meet her at the end of the day in the Leaky Cauldron. It had spiralled from there; she was tenacious. But she had turned into a good friend, a lot of fun and was a welcome addition to their little group.

Harry turned away from watching the unwelcome rain to see if his friends had arrived. He turned slightly to scan the pub and froze. He adjusted his glasses and shook his head, but it was no apparition. Draco _fucking_ Malfoy was sat across the room from him.

Harry hadn't seen him for months. He didn't even know that he was back in the country. Pansy had informed him that Malfoy had taken himself off to France to study _something_. Harry hadn't really been listening to the details. He had been too worried about not seeing his secret crush for Merlin-only-knows how many months.

Taking a sip of his beer and peeking surreptitiously through his hair, Harry studied the man. Malfoy's hair was gorgeous. It always had been striking, but the sun in the south of France had obviously added a new sheen to it. The light bounced off the now golden locks. Harry wanted to _touch_. He wanted to run his fingers through it; he wanted to _tug_ it.

_Where the fuck had those thoughts__ come from? And, more importantly, what was that on his face?_

Draco Malfoy had grown a beard. And fuck – he looked bloody good. Harry had forsaken shaving in recent months in an attempt to look even a little bit different, but he knew he looked scruffy with a beard. It didn't matter how many times the girls fawned over him or tried to run their hands over the hair on his face; he knew he just looked a mess.

Malfoy did not. It suited him. Fuck – it more than suited him; it completed him. The hair was slightly darker than the hair on the top of his head; it gave Malfoy a distinguished, and just downright sexy, air about him.

It was all that Harry could do to stop himself bounding over the table, wrapping his hand around Malfoy's neck and _licking_ the facial hair. He wanted to feel the stubble under his tongue; he wanted to rake his teeth through the thicker hair on his chin. He wanted to do this while tugging on Malfoy's hair.

Harry ducked his head back down before the object of his desires could notice his staring; he took another gulp of his beer and shifted slightly on the hard, wooden chair. How the fuck was he so turned on by just looking at the man?

In an attempt to rid himself of his burgeoning erection, Harry glanced around the pub. It was no good; his traitorous eyes travelled straight back to Malfoy. Even his clothes screamed 'sex'. Harry couldn't see the bottom half as Malfoy was sat at a table, but his upper body was wrapped in quite a tight fitting shirt. He could only imagine the fantastic arms hidden beneath the black fabric.

Dragging his eyes away once again, Harry drank some more of his beer and looked at his watch. Where were the girls? They were late; very late. The girls were never late. Taking another quick look at Malfoy, something clicked inside of Harry's mind. How convenient – what were the chances of both him and Malfoy being in the same pub at the same time? Thinking back to previous conversations with Pansy, Harry remembered the twinkle in her eyes whenever they had mentioned Malfoy.

Maybe his secret crush wasn't so secret after all.

Running his hand over his beard, Harry determinedly looked back out at the rain. He nodded to himself and gathered all the courage his beating heart could muster. Harry looked up and straight at Malfoy. He nearly jumped when Malfoy opened his eyes and stared back at him.

His heart _did_ jump when he recognised the look of pure lust being shot in his direction.


	3. Bearded Conversation

_Conversation, collusion and confession._

Draco held Potter's gaze for what felt like hours, but was at most probably only seconds. He was starting to wonder if he should smile or nod, or simply look away, when Potter rose to his feet and began walking towards him. Swigging the last of his pint, Draco buried his nerves and managed a small, hopefully natural-looking, smile as Potter drew nearer.

"Hi, Malfoy," Potter said as he stopped in front of Draco's table.

"Hello, Potter," replied Draco.

There was an awkward silence as they just looked at each other for a few seconds and then they both spoke at once.

"Nice beard," they both said.

Draco rolled his eyes and smiled while Potter threw his head back and laughed.

"Can I, er-" began Potter, nervously. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Can I buy you a drink?" He pointed to the empty glass in front of Draco.

Looking down at his glass, Draco wasn't sure what to do. Did he really want to have a drink with Potter? They had barely said more than 'Hello' and a polite 'How are you?' to each other in passing, and nothing at all since Draco had left for France. This was bound to be uncomfortable. On the other hand, Draco knew Pansy had befriended Potter, and he would no doubt be seeing more of the bearded menace in future. The fact that Draco's erection was still straining against the inside of his trousers had nothing to do with it when he finally answered, honestly.

"I'd like that, thank you."

Potter smiled with what looked like relief as he picked up Draco's empty glass.

"What're you drinking?" he asked.

"Springhead, thanks."

While Potter was at the bar Draco closed his eyes and thought about unsexy things, willing his erection to go away. He could sit here and make polite conversation with Harry sexy-beard-growing Potter, but he refused to do it with a hard-on. It would be far too distracting. He conjured mental images of Snape and Umbridge together in compromising, and naked, positions. The hard-on that had been straining against his trousers disappeared quickly, and Draco could only hope he would ever be able to get it back again after what his brain had shown him.

All too soon Potter was back from the bar. He put Draco's ale down in front of him while sitting down opposite and taking a deep drink of his own amber liquid. Potter brought the glass away from his mouth and placed it on the table and Draco had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Right across Potter's hairy moustache was a thick layer of frothy beer head, and fuck it if the git didn't look adorable with a beer moustache. Then Potter blindsided him with huge and genuine smile, beer foam and all. Draco's cock gave an interested twitch. _Damn_.

"So," began Potter. "You're back."

"I'm back." Draco nodded his head once in assertion. "And you..." Draco trailed off, not knowing anything about what Potter might have been up to in the last six months.

"Never left," supplied Potter, amusedly.

"Never left," echoed Draco, followed by a reluctant laugh. "So what _have_ you been up to, Potter?" He found himself genuinely interested.

"Nothing exciting." Potter pulled a face and shrugged. "I work behind a desk at the Ministry. I go out with friends." He scratched at his chin. "I grow facial hair."

Against his better judgement, Draco let out a genuine laugh. Who knew Potter could actually be funny? Maybe he wasn't just a pretty, beardy, face after all. When he looked over at Potter he was smiling back at him and Draco had to fight back a blush. This was not going to plan at all.

"So, what brings you to this fine, ale-selling establishment?" asked Potter. Draco was grateful for something else to think about and leapt at the new subject matter.

"I was supposed to be meeting Pansy," he said as he took another quick glance around the pub. "I don't know where she's gotten to; I'm usually the late one."

"Funny that," Potter said as he raised one eyebrow knowingly. "I was meant to be meeting Pansy here, as well. What do you think the chances are that she arranged to meet both of us here and then accidentally forgets to actually turn up herself?"

"Oh no," Draco groaned. She wouldn't. Well, it's Pansy, she _would_. "That bitch. What is she playing at?"

"I may not have known Pansy for as long as you, but I'd be willing to bet she has some kind of plan behind this."

"You've definitely got the measure of Pansy, alright. Nothing that woman says or does is without reason and ulterior motive." Suddenly Draco was again thinking of that brief meeting with Pansy earlier in the week, when she'd asked about his beard. His eyes settled on Potter's hairy chin as he remembered Pansy's smile, nod and under-played interest in the fact that he had no plans to shave. Oh, that _bitch_. Two bearded gay men did not a perfect couple make.

"What do you think her ulterior motive was in this instance?"

Draco started, realising he had still been looking at Potter's beard, and his lips. His cock gave another gentle jerk against his trousers. Draco closed his eyes and willed his arousal away, while trying to give a look of contemplation. When he finally opened his eyes, along with his mouth to answer, the heat in Potter's own eyes told him he had failed.

"Well," spoke Draco carefully, "as she's now friends with us both, I would say this is her attempt at making us reconcile our differences so she can stand to be in the same room with both of us at once."

"Yes," began Potter. "That does seem like the obvious reason for her ploy, doesn't it?"

Something in Potter's tone made Draco put down his beer before he'd actually taken a swig and look the other man straight in the eye. It seemed Potter knew Pansy very well, indeed.

"But we both know Pansy's never that obvious," said Potter without breaking eye contact.

Fighting the urge to gulp, Draco attempted to assess the situation he currently found himself in. He didn't know Potter very well at all. Since leaving Hogwarts, and before Draco had gone away to France, they had seen each other about, but only long enough to share a polite 'Hello' or a brief nod of heads. However, if Potter's accurate assessment of Pansy was anything to go by, _Pansy_ may know Potter extremely well.

And of course Pansy knows of Draco's attraction to the speccy git, which his rock hard cock tells him has only increased since he grew a bloody beard. She knows too much for her own good, that woman.

Could she know what she's doing in this case? Draco could almost believe so with the determined stare Potter was giving him, regardless of the nervous lip-biting. Maybe Potter was wondering the same thing he was: _Does he fancy me?_

"Pansy is a very astute woman," Draco said at last. "I trust her judgement."

"What are you saying?"

Draco couldn't help but smile; Potter looked far too cute when he frowned. This time his belly did a flip at the same time his penis jumped.

"I'm not saying anything, Potter," said Draco, still smiling. "I will ask a question, though."

"Hmm?"

"How long have you fancied me?"

"Excu-" Potter's response was stalled by a cough as he choked on his drink. "Excuse me?"

"It would seem we both know Pansy very well, which would suggest she knows _us_ very well." Draco took a deep breath, wondering if he was actually about to say this out loud, to Potter. "I may never have told her, but I know she knows of my feeling towards you."

"Yo- your-" This time Potter's stutter couldn't be blamed on his drink. "Your feelings towards me?" he eventually asked.

"I believe I posed my question first?"

Draco wouldn't usually resort to such petty manoeuvres, but he couldn't be the first one to admit to this. Plus the fact that Potter always had brought out the child in him.

"You want to know how long I've..."

"Fancied me, yes."

The heat in Potter's eyes hadn't receded, but it was now joined by nervousness, and what Draco wanted to be a faint glimmer of hope. Then Potter closed his eyes and sighed, and Draco had to wonder if he too was fighting a losing battle with an erection.

"For a while," admitted Potter eventually. He held up a hand as Draco was about to ask him how long 'a while' was, and continued at him own pace. "I first noticed you _like that_ towards the end of eighth year, but didn't really think about it. Then... well, the feelings never really went away. Every time I saw you..." he trailed off, shrugging and then looked up at Draco, nervously. "What about yours?"

"I've always felt something for you, Potter." Now they were laying things out on the table, Draco felt no reason to not be completely honest. "There has been anger, envy, begrudging admiration, more anger..."

"Those aren't the feelings we're talking about now though, are they?" There was definitely hope in Potter's voice now, and it made Draco smile.

"No. Now, and since you first smiled at me after the war, all I've felt for you has been attraction." Draco pondered his options for a second or two, then decided not to worry about it as he continued. "And an unhealthy dose of lust."

"Oh," was all Potter managed as he gazed at Draco with wide eyes. "So, what next?"

"Next, we need to buy Pansy a huge and expensive thank you gift. But before that, I'd like to finish our drinks and take you home with me if that's acceptable?"

If it was possible, Potter's eyes got wider.

"I did mention the obscene amount of lust, didn't i?" Draco clarified.

"Okay," said Potter quickly as he rushed to his feet, knocking the table and spilling the drinks Draco knew they weren't going to finish.

"I'm glad we're on the same page." Draco rose to his feet gracefully and smiled at Potter.

They threw on their coats and made their way to the exit as quickly as they could without actually breaking into a run. As they headed out into the miserable English weather, neither of them bothered to shield themselves from the rain.

Reaching a secluded spot suitable for Apparition Draco stopped and grasped Potter's hand.

"Are we really doing this?" he suddenly has to ask. It all seemed so much more real now they were out of the warm relaxed atmosphere of the pub, with the rain beating down and drenching their beards.

"Yes," Potter replied immediately, then paused. "Please."

And that's all Draco needed before he leant in, captured Potter's facial hair surrounded lips, pulled him close and Apparated them away. 


	4. Bearded Lust

_Snogs, sleep and sex._

Harry stumbled as he recovered from the Apparition, only the strong arms wrapped around him holding him upright. He never had found out the secret to successfully travelling by magic without experiencing the wave of nausea that followed.

"Okay there?" Draco cheekily asked. "Need a minute?"

Harry didn't know if it was the beer, the Apparition or the fact that he was standing in Draco Malfoy's living room that was making his head spin. After finally gathering some courage and going to talk to him in the pub, Harry had discovered that Draco had definitely changed for the better since school. The two had shared quite a brief, yet friendly, and ultimately enlightening, conversation. Most of which was about facial hair, but Harry had enjoyed it nonetheless.

Nodding to Draco, Harry closed his eyes and willed the feeling to go away. Opening his eyes again, he noticed Draco looking at him worriedly and recognised his feelings for what they were. Nervousness.

_Why the fuck am I nervous? _ Harry asked himself internally. _I've bloody well done this before!_

"Potter. Harry," Draco said. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Harry nodded again before gathering a bit more of that famous, or was it infamous, Gryffindor courage and kissing Draco once more.

Since he had first seen Draco, Harry had wondered how his beard would feel against his own. Now he knew. It was just as he thought; the soft hairs were tickling his own hairy chin, and it was all he could do to stop himself from giving into his urges and licking the man.

"I'm fine, I promise," Harry said after they broke for air. "Now, you said something about dealing with all this lust."

"That I did." Draco chuckled and removed his cloak, throwing it on top off a pile of boxes and inviting Harry to do the same with a wave of his hand. "Can I get you something to drink first?"

"Yes, please," he answered, needing the little distraction. "Anything you've got is fine."

"I've got a bottle of Ogden's here somewhere," Draco replied, already sifting through boxes. "That's if I can find it. I really should unpack one of these days."

Harry withdrew his wand. "Do you want me to Summon it?"

"No, it's okay. I've found it!" Draco cheered as he lifted the bottle from a box marked _'BATHROOM'._

Harry decided not to ask.

"Sit down," Draco said, moving towards the kitchen. "I'll be right back."

Harry sat back on the comfortable sofa and surveyed the small but serviceable living room. Boxes were scattered everywhere and books were piled high. Harry had not expected Draco's house to be like this. Harry wondered if that was why he felt so comfortable in Draco's presence. The man had definitely surprised him this evening.

"Here we go," Draco said, startling Harry out of his pondering and handing him a tumbler half-full of amber liquid. "I didn't know if you wanted ice, so I left it out."

Harry simply smiled and patted the sofa beside him, secretly pleased that Draco seemed to be slightly nervous as well.

Taking a long sip of his drink, Harry turned to Draco and smiled. "So, how _was _France?"

Harry quickly realised that this might have been the wrong thing to ask - Draco couldn't stop talking about it. He heard about his research, the people and finally, and most importantly, the story of why he grew his beard. Harry told Draco about his work with Pansy, how the two of them had become friends and how Draco was the only one who hadn't told him to shave.

By the time they had finished talking about their recent lives, the bottle of Ogden's was all but finished.

"Shall we?" Draco asked, nodding towards the staircase. "If you still want to…?"

Harry could feel his face heating up; he'd been so relaxed just sitting with Draco that somehow he had forgotten what had originally brought them together.

"Yes," he replied before he lost his nerve.

Draco shakily stood up and held both of his hands out to help Harry. Harry grasped the proffered hands and shot Draco a lust filled look. Or what he hoped was a lust filled look – the Firewhisky was making him woozy.

Harry didn't know exactly how it had happened; he _had_ meant to stand and follow Draco to the bedroom and fulfil his fantasies involving Draco's beard. He had not meant to pull the poor unsuspecting Draco on top of him on the sofa.

Draco didn't seem to mind. A bit of shuffling and manoeuvring later, and Harry found himself comfortably on his back with Draco settled between his legs. Draco kissed Harry gently before laying his head down on his chest.

"Draco?" Harry asked quietly.

"Hm?"

"Bed?"

"Hm."

"Sex?"

"N a morning."

Harry nearly laughed at the mumbled reply but he stopped himself when he noticed that Draco was actually asleep. Too tired and tipsy to do anything else, Harry soon joined him.

Harry awoke in the morning to the strangest feeling. It felt as if someone was _licking_ his beard. Blearily opening one eye, he realised that his suspicions were correct – Draco was alternating between nuzzling the downy hairs on his chin and licking the coarser hair on his neck. It felt fucking fantastic and the sensation from Draco's tongue was travelling straight to his cock.

"Morning," he stated, startling Draco from his task.

Draco's cheeks pinked as he raised his eyes to meet Harry's.

"Don't stop on my account," Harry all but purred, raising himself off the sofa slightly and showing Draco the consequences of his actions. "Please."

The lustful look returned to Draco's eyes and Harry groaned in response. Placing his hands on either side of Draco's head, Harry licked a stripe from his neck to his lips.

"I've wanted to do that since I first saw you last night." Harry raked his teeth through the thicker hairs under his lip and bit down gently on Draco's chin. "And that."

Harry angled his head before sucking and biting Draco's neck. "And that. And much more."

"Shall we go upstairs?" Draco asked. "You can show me _everything_ you wanted to do to me last night."

"No," Harry simply replied.

"What? Don't you want to shag me anymore? I didn't mean to fall asl-"

Harry cut Draco off with a kiss. "No. We're going to stay here and you're going to shag me. I'm much too comfortable to move."

Harry reached under Draco and fumbled in his pocket for his wand. One swish later, and both of their sets of clothes disappeared.

Draco let out a small gasp as the cool air swept over him. "Warn a guy!"

Harry laughed and opened his legs wider, allowing Draco to settle more firmly between them. They both moaned as their hard cocks rubbed together; Harry swept his knuckles over Draco beard and kissed him.

"Now, please." Harry twirled his wand again and a small pool of liquid appeared on his belly. "Guh!" he added. "I should have remembered to warm it first."

Draco chuckled and scooped some of the cold liquid up with his finger. He kissed Harry gently as he slowly pushed the oiled finger inside Harry. Swallowing Harry's moan of appreciation, Draco added another finger before once more nuzzling at the soft hair on Harry chin.

Harry tangled his hands in Draco's hair and pulled him off so he could access Draco's own beard. As Draco pushed another finger beside the others, Harry continued his earlier task of mapping Draco's beard with his tongue.

Harry arched his back as Draco moved his fingers inside his arse. He felt so full; it felt so good. His cock was trapped between his still slippery belly and Draco's chest and the friction was nearly too much for him.

"Now, Draco!" Harry cried as Draco pressed on the spot guaranteed to make him come very quickly indeed. He wanted to come with Draco's cock in his arse and he wasn't going to last much longer with Draco doing _that_.

Draco groaned aloud at Harry's words. He sat up slightly, running his hand over Harry's stomach to slick his hand once more. Sliding his hand over his own cock, Draco smiled lazily at Harry before pushing the oiled cock smoothly into Harry's arse.

"Fuck!" they both cried together.

Harry grabbed Draco and brought him down for a kiss. "Harder," he growled, raising his legs further and forcing Draco in deeper.

Draco eagerly complied. Harry knew he was going to come soon, and by the sounds Draco was making, he wouldn't be far behind. Draco slid a hand between the grasp Harry's neglected cock; it was all Harry needed to send him over the edge, screaming Draco's name. Draco thrust harder and faster, until he too came with a strangled cry.

Instead of slumping straight onto Harry's prone form, Draco brought his come-slicked hand up to his mouth and _licked_. Harry gasped as he watched Draco clean his hand of his come. Some of it trailed along Draco's lower lip and caught in his beard.

Harry was mesmerised. Wrapping an arm around Draco's neck, Harry dragged him down for a kiss, letting his tongue sweep past Draco's chin and tasting himself.

"Mmm," Harry said, running his tongue over his own bottom lip. "Shaving is definitely overrated."


End file.
